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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340780">In the Aftermath</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid'>HyperKid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Minor mentions of Trent related trauma, Multi, Other, Peace, Spoilers for c2e87, cleric sandwich, little bit of ep 88, needs many snuggles, tiny bathrooms, traumatised wizard boy, tw: dissociation, whump the wizard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:27:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So. </p><p>Trent Ikithon. </p><p>In the throne room of the Dwendalian Empire. </p><p>That’s a thing that happened. </p><p>Caleb’s getting a lot better about letting himself be vulnerable with the Mighty Nein around him. A lot more used to letting himself be taken care of. And crammed into bathing rooms that really don’t have space for three.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beau/Yasha/Jester/Caleb/Fjord/Caduceus, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast/Caduceus Clay, Polynein, claylebster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>206</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HK: Had to legitimately scroll back to December to check I hadn’t already written this.<br/>Mollymauk: You ever think you have too many fics?<br/>HK: Technically it’s less than 100?<br/>Mollymauk: For how long?<br/>HK: ......... *mumbles* goal’stheendofMay<br/>Mollymauk: Just a few too many?<br/>HK: No! I just need to organise!<br/>Mollymauk: Well, so long as I get to be in more of them.<br/>HK: Always. Anyway! Hopefully I’ll have another little semi-related snippet for y’all soon! </p><p>WARNINGS!! Caleb Widogast, traumatized as all hell and trying and semi failing to cope. Minor gore warnings maybe? Bits of Oban? </p><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one I just have a legal requirement for more soft and fluff and some day something with Pumat Swole</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His heart stopped when they entered the throne room. First he knew it had been beating at all since they arrived in the city, really. It felt like that whole day, he hadn’t really drawn breath. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Like breathing would give him away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Not that it fucking mattered now. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The throne room was bustling with people all crowded around the chair itself, but Caleb only saw one. The sallow face of Trent Ikithon seared itself into his mind in an instant. Keeping his head down, his face turned away, none of it mattered. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He couldn’t fucking breathe. Worried every moment that the discordant thudding of his heart would catch the man’s attention. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nothing that anyone else said even registered. He thought he’d be on edge, terrified but prepared, as he had been in the Bright Queen’s throne room. Ready to help if the others needed him, to think of ~something~ to save them all. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He couldn’t even say for sure that anyone said his name. Not until Trent Fucking Ikithon was close enough to touch. Before he could bring himself to face the man, Jester was between them. Beau tucked in to one side, close enough to intercept a blow, but not so close she couldn’t lash out back. A gentle press at his back could only be Caduceus; no one else was tall enough that their belt would brush his ribs. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Surrounded on all sides, he’d never felt more alone. Never more vulnerable than when he met Trent’s eyes, saw the man smile. Heard him say his fucking name. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A name he never wanted to use again. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was a surprise to find that he was still on his feet a moment later as he swayed, Fjord’s hand coming to rest on his lower back to steady him. And then Trent was gone, walking away like he hadn’t torn down Caleb’s world. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Like he knew he had, and couldn’t wait to do it again. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And they would have to see him again tomorrow. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His hands were shaking uncontrollably. Couldn’t imagine how he was still standing. It was too much, all too much, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A strong blue hand slipped into his own, squeezing gently, and he let himself be led from the room. Fjord’s hand hadn’t moved from the small of his back, steadying him, and it took a conscious effort not to sway into his touch. He could feel Beau hovering just behind, keeping her position ready to strike. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’d never felt more loved in all his life. He felt weak as a kitten, literally a few steps from collapse at any time, beaten and bloody and exhausted. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They all were. Drained, a few steps from collapse, likely not even enough spells to heal a bruise. And the Mighty Nein folded around him at the first sign of any trouble. Protecting him like it was an instinct, not even something to think about. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His eyes stung with unshed tears, his vision misting over as a lump rose in his throat. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As they walked through the city, Caleb turned his face to the sky, eyes closed. Sucking in deep breaths of clean, rain damp air, he did his best to get back under control. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This was his old stomping ground. He should at least be ~some~ use. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They needed... fuck, they needed everything. Anything he could remember. But try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything that would help. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’d been a fucking kid the last time he’d walked these streets. A stupid, carefree child, who didn’t care about important things like health potions, or diamonds. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fuck it, he was proud enough to still be able to talk. To be managing coherent sentences, even if he couldn’t come up with anything useful. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He thought he was doing pretty well at pretending to be normal, right up until they reached the inn. It was a nice place, spacious, beautiful, and clearly expensive. They even had their own bathing room, pretty much big enough for one. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Caleb was happy to resign himself to going last. The filth from destroying Oban hadn’t worked as a shield between him and Trent, but it was familiar and it was probably helping. Probably keeping him from a total breakdown. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wasn’t the worst, either; Caduceus had been fucking swallowed, Yasha hadn’t bathed in months, and all of them were drenched in blood and ichor. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And then Jester grabbed his hand, and grabbed Caduceus, and tugged them after her into the bathroom. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Come on! Let’s get washed up!” She declared happily as the rest of the Nein watched in vague exasperation. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Jester... there’s no...” Beau called after them, clearly giving up half way and throwing her hands into the air. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester ignored her, pulling Caleb and Caduceus into the room and shutting the door happily. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Okay! Time to be naked,” she declared brightly, rocking on her toes. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The room was... just about big enough to hold them all, and the wash tub and small table for bathing. There wasn’t much space with all three of them moving around and Caleb hesitated, glancing toward the door. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He could offer to leave. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>To let the clerics wash up, and... </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And what? </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And go and sit downstairs in awkward silence, knowing every word they said was overheard? </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sit alone in his room in awkward silence, for the same reason? </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was a little surprised at how viscerally he hated the idea. It was all he’d been planning to do while the others washed up. Sit and wait for his turn. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But now that he was here, in this quiet, warm room... every movement brushing soft fur or cool skin... he didn’t want to be alone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was probably progress; not retreating immediately to the bastions of silence and repression. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Neither cleric was directly looking at him, both busy digging the fastenings of their armour free of gore. Letting him make the decision, or trusting that he’d stay? </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It didn’t much matter either way he decided, shrugging carefully out of his coat and hissing as stiff muscles complained. Fortunately for him, his harnesses had been covered and protected from most of the junk, so it was easy enough to work himself free and pile his clothes in a corner. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Which raised another problem. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What will we do for clothing?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester and Caduceus turned at the sound of his voice, turned a little further to stare at the blood covered pile at his feet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“We shoulda stuck with Pumat,” Jester sighed, deflating and running a hand through gunk covered hair. Trying to, anyway. It got stuck on a pretty big piece of Oban and she whimpered, tugging it free with a chunk of hair. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Caduceus frowned down at the pile too, then at his own armour, which he’d only just wriggled out of. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“The inn should be able to do something, right?” He asked hopefully, looking between his more travelled companions. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester and Caleb stared at each other for a long moment, having not the faintest idea what the inn might have. It was worth asking though, so Caleb fished his strand of wire from a pocket and pointed in the direction he was pretty sure Nott had gone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>One of the Nein, anyway. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hello, it’s Caleb. Could you ask if the inn has any laundry facilities? I think we will all need them.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“And clean water,” Jester called, frowning down into the wash tub, “this is gonna be unusable by the time we’re done.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nodding, Caleb waited a minute to see if he’d get a reply. It wasn’t Nott who answered but Beauregard, which worked just as well in the long run. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ah, shit, yeah... I’ll go ask. Guess we all run around naked in the meantime?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Not something Caleb was going to discuss. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Jester says we will also need clean water by the time we’re done,” he told her simply, and didn’t pay much attention to listening for a reply. Stripped down to his amulet, he paused a moment to survey the sheer number and colours of bruises covering almost every inch of his body. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He had about a thousand new cuts too, most too small to really worry about but several still seeping. Almost every inch of him was discoloured either by injury or slime and just looking at it made his skin itch. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>One day he’d like to meet a ruler wearing clean clothes. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Maybe when Allura brought them to see the Tal Dorei council. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>For now he moved to help Jester dig her belt buckles free, helping her out of her armour and dress. She didn’t look quite as bad, but that could easily have been the way the bruises never showed up against blue skin. Making a series of small disgusted noises, she peeled her gloves off and shook her arms free as though to clean them, taking a deep breath once she was clear and smiling at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Thanks, Caleb,” she sighed happily, cupping one cheek fondly with a hand that had mostly escaped being covered in gunk. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hell, possibly the only hands in the room, since her gloves had protected her where most of the others were just bare skin. Some had still seeped through, but for the most part her hands were blessedly unsticky and Caleb leaned easily into her touch. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was helping. He was here, he was with family, he was helping. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trent Fucking Ikithon could get fucked if he thought Caleb would throw all that away and bolt just seeing his fucking face. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Not that he hadn’t seriously considered it... but no, he firmed himself, turning to Caduceus with just the faintest hint of a smile. Running away wasn’t an option anymore, not without the Mighty Nein at his side. For better or worse, they’d just come after him, and they’d be in much more danger without him there to warn them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was a decision he’d made long before, it must have been months ago now, when they first reached Felderwyn. Back before they’d made friends with another powerful arcanist, before a queen knew his name, before they had anyone else who would care to look for them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They had come so, so far. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It took all three if them to divest Caduceus of his clothes; most of the slime from Oban had matted them directly into his fur, and they finally had to soak him free with handfuls of water and wet towels. Caleb sent another Message down for more, and Beau arrived soon after with a few large jugs of water and a stack of linens. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She wasn’t exactly surprised to have a naked Jester answer the door, and declined the offer to join in, giving Caduceus her best condolences once she saw the state of him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The firbolg was taking the whole thing remarkably well in all honesty, maintaining at least a neutral humour as Jester and Caleb worked him carefully free of his clothes. As they carefully soaked his long sleeve from his arm, Caleb had to wonder if Jester had grabbed him partially to just help Caduceus. It was at least a three person job just to get him naked to bathe, and cast a little more light on why she’d dragged two extra people into the tiny bathroom. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And then he remembered her immediate step to block him from Trent, Caduceus’ firm presence at his back. He knew all the Nein were worried about him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tears welled in his eyes again but he did his best to ignore them, using the jug Beau had brought to wet Caduceus hair while he knelt over the tub, Jester raiding the entire room and all of their packs for soaps. The firbolg moaned happily as the warm water washed over him, heated in the jug by a cantrip as Caleb held it. Then Jester was back at his side and pressed against him shoulder to hip, her hands full of soaps as she began massaging Caduceus’ scalp. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She didn’t say a word about his tears and he was glad of it, letting himself lean a little weight on her in return. Together the three of them got most of Caduceus at least passably clean again, trying to keep the dirtied water in the tub so they’d have a little clean left. More than enough to dip a cloth into and give each other a good scrub down. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Caleb considered protesting, on taking one of the jugs and washing himself up while Jester did the same. Didn’t. Let her and Caduceus move, direct, and clean him up as gently as they could. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was so, so easy to give himself over to their soothing hands. Easy to let go, let himself begin to shake, tears dripping down his cheeks and leaving trails through the grime. Jester made a soft, sad noise but kept going, turning him gently into Caduceus’ arms so she could scrub his back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Burrowing easily into thick, wet fur, broad arms wrapped around his shoulders and he let himself be held. Let himself fall apart, knowing Caduceus wouldn’t let him go. The firbolg held him close, shifting him gently to give Jester access to every last inch. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, crying until there was nothing left inside him. Jester must have finished cleaning him up because she was pressed to his back, sandwiching him firmly between the two clerics, and he couldn’t feel any more sticky patches on his skin. Well, except some of the places where she touched. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Caleb couldn’t bring himself to care. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It felt so, so good to let himself be taken care of. To know that he was safe here, truly, really safe for the first time in far too long. He was allowed to let his guard down, to feel and fall apart and know that he would be caught. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’d seen that fucking man again. Would have to see him tomorrow, to look him in the eye like he hadn’t torn everything good in his life from him. To go into his fucking stronghold and keep enough control to see the beacon. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>To take from him something he desperately wanted. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A defiant spark of flame curled in Caleb’s chest, unfamiliar and frightening. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Trent had to be willing to let them in. To give this beacon, real or fake, up to the crown or he’d never have agreed. Caleb couldn’t imagine the man being forced against his will. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Knew full well there was every chance he’d force them as deep into his domain as he could go, just to watch Caleb squirm. It would be... </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>No. Shying away from the thought, Caleb buried his face in Caduceus’ fur and breathed in the warm, musky scent of him. He wouldn’t be alone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fuck, if he left it up to the Nein he’d probably never spend another minute alone again for as long as he lived. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Kinda didn’t hate that thought. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester shifted closer, one of Caduceus’ hands leaving Caleb’s shoulder to wrap around her too. Pressed between them, touching with pretty much every inch of his skin, Caleb closed his eyes and just... breathed. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HK: Aight motherfuckers let’s see how many lil snippets I can get through since all my long form stuff is plotting my actual death! Wish me luck! And please help me keep an eye out for more ship weeks, I’d love to have more than three day’s notice &gt;.&gt;</p></blockquote></div></div>
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